


Fear to Tread

by angorwat



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Elizabethan Era, Arranged Marriage, Elijah and Klaus are not siblings, F/M, Human!Elijah, Human!Finn, Human!Freya, Human!Mikael, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23434672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angorwat/pseuds/angorwat
Summary: When the mysterious Lord Niklaus Anselson defeats his father in battle and asks for his hand in marriage in return for letting his family retain the tatters of their honour, Elijah Mikaelson finds there is little he can do but give in. However, being married to the man is nothing like he could have ever imagined and Elijah slowly finds his husband's story unravelling.--Will get darker as it goes on.
Relationships: Elijah Mikaelson/Klaus Mikaelson, Mikael/Esther Mikaelson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 63





	1. not just the carcass, but the spark

Despite the fact that he has seen this coming ever since the tide of the battle had started turning against his father, Elijah was still surprised the day he was summoned to his father’s study to meet Lord Niklaus Anselson. 

He had woken up that morning, jerked awake by something he’d seen in his dreams, while the moon was still out. A look at the clock told him it was 4:30 in the morning. His windows were open, the curtains billowing out in the wind, and Elijah had a vague feeling he’d closed them before he slept, but he wrote it off as the wind being particularly strong that night. Around him, uncharacteristically for this time of the day, the castle was bustling with activity and one look at his calendar reminded him that today was the day his father would be surrendering to Lord Anselson. 

He had lain in bed for an hour, looking out over at the moor illuminated by the moon. He was already dreading the ire of his father once he returned home. Mikael was a proud lord, long fallen out of favour with the king for his brutish ways and his treatment of the poor. Due to his lands being awarded to him for his bravery in a battle decades ago, and the title of lord being passed down from his father, who was beloved to the previous king, the king could not outwardly do anything to oust Mikael. 

Much to his father’s displeasure Elijah had earned favour with the king because of his silver tongue and had been one of his favourites in the years his father had served there. This fondness of the king has continued even after he had left to go home, resulting in Elijah being invited to the court numerous times a year, and being allowed to sit in on negotiations and meetings otherwise forbidden for others his age. 

Along with this, he had also caught the eye of the young prince Tristan who, despite the distance between them, had been writing to Elijah as often as twice a month now, despite Mikael having made his displeasure at the situation openly know. Elijah had to secretly reply to these letters, and only managed to do so out of the sheer indulgence of his sister and mother. 

But despite Elijah’s best effort, his father could never be redeemed in court. The last time they were in court, Mikael had taken offence to another lord calling his wife beautiful, and had challenged him to a duel. That had turned out to be the last straw. A few months later when Lord Anselson had come to court along with his siblings and the tragic story of losing his estate in New Orleans to an invasion, the king had granted him considerable lands next to Mikael’s, a province to rule over, and told him he could have the Mikaelson lands too, if he managed to defeat Mikael in battle. 

Which had all resulted in today. The day of surrender, when Lord Anselson and Elijah’s father would discuss the terms of surrender. The Lord’s forces had his father’s castle surrounded on all sides, as most of his father’s forces had surrendered to the lord on their own behest. For all that Mikael was a remarkable fighter, he was not one to inspire loyalty among anyone. Even within the family, it was Esther who managed the distance between her husband and their children. 

It was nearing noon when the doors to Elijah’s quarters were opened. He was sitting by the windowsill, looking out over the moor when his siblings entered. Finn and Freya, both wearing expressions of regret that made Elijah want to escape out the window.  
“Elijah,” Finn said, his voice devoid of emotions in the way it only was when he was delivering bad news, “father would like to see you in his study.”

In the next ten minutes, his siblings, shooing away the servants that showed up to assist them, dressed him in his finest clothes. Freya pulled him in and kissed his forehead and they both walked him to his father’s study the way one may walk a man doomed for execution. Nearly shaking with trepidation, Elijah gathered his nerves about him and knocked on the door. 

“Come in.” said his father.

Elijah closed his eyes for a second as he turned the doorknob. He entered the study, which had over the years been the place where his father had punished him for his (mostly imagined) misdeeds. His father was sitting behind his desk, a cup of half-finished wine in front of him. Across from him, almost lounging in the chair, sat a blond-haired man in fine clothes, a cup of wine held carelessly in his hand. His eyes raked over Elijah in a way that made colour rise to his cheeks. 

“Take a seat, Elijah.” His father bit out. 

As Elijah sat down, Niklaus stood up, refiling his cup. “A cup for you love?” he asked, and it took Elijah a moment to realise he was being spoken to. The man’s voice was smooth and sultry, the words seemed to be rolling off his tongue as if he was saying something obscene. 

“Nothing for the boy.” Mikael bit out.

“Now now Mikael,” Lord Anselson said, turning around, “let the boy make his own choices. He’s a man now isn’t he?” Making eye contact with Elijah, who had been desperately trying to avoid it he spoke again, “Would you like some wine sweetheart?”

“No, thank you, my lord.” Elijah said, in the same tone of voice he had used on diplomats and nobles who had thought he was too young to sit at the same table as they were. For some reason, he felt that talking in any other manner to Lord Anselson would be admitting defeat in a game he had not yet started playing. 

“Elijah, as you very well know, Lord Anselson and I are here today discussing the terms of a truce. One of his conditions is-” Mikael managed to get out, before being interrupted by the lord in question. Elijah had to suppress a smile at the look of anger on his father’s face.

“You see, my little lord, I fancy myself a rather benevolent man. In return for leaving this castle alone, to let the Mikaelson’s live on, I demand a rather small price. A share of revenue, less than half, the service of your father and his men whenever I ask for it, and,” he said, pausing to sip his wine, “the hand of his youngest in marriage.”

It took Elijah a few seconds to understand that he was being referred to. He turned to look at his father, whose face was curled up in disdain. 

“I’ll wait for your answer till evening my little lord,” Lord Anselson said, draining his cup in one swig, “but if it passes eight o’clock and I do not have an answer I will consider my offer rejected.” He turned to leave, the door half-opened, before he spoke again. “If my rather generous offer is rejected, Lord Mikaelson, we may find ourselves needing to renegotiate your surrender. And I may not find myself as kind this time.” The door shut rather softly behind him, all the punctuation that his statement needed. 

Elijah turned to look at his father, rattled, some childish part of him expecting his father to make everything better. But age had only made Mikael cruel and his ability to make things better had disappeared in Elijah’s fifth year. 

“Pour me some more wine boy,” he said, “and yourself too if you must. And let us talk about you finally being beneficial to the Mikaelson name.”

Five o’clock found Elijah in his mother’s rooms as she poured some tea. His mother was always the rock of the family, the only person who could calm Mikael’s rages and get Freya out of her study and Finn out of his sulks. She was the only one Elijah felt like he could speak to.

“This is a great burden that has been placed on you my son.” She said, handing him his cup, laying a hand on his cheek, her soft brown eyes looking at him with what was almost pity “if it were up to me, you would have never been placed in this position.”

Elijah already knew what the rest of his family would say. His father had thought of this as his duty, Finn and Freya had raged about Lord Anselson and it had taken all of Elijah’s persuading skills to ensure that the two did not challenge the man to a duel. He had come to his mother in the end, to cement his decision. 

He sipped his tea slowly, looking everywhere but at his mother as she sat back and drank out of her cup. “Do you agree with my decision mother?” he asked, almost certain of the answer. 

“I think,” Esther said slowly, each word deliberate, “that you understand sacrifice as if you shared a womb with it.”

A small army of servants descended upon Elijah to prepare him for dinner that night, no doubt on his father’s instructions. When he went down for dinner, he found his parents and Lord Anselson already seated, with the young Lord at the head of the table, a place that Elijah could not remember his father ever having not occupied. His parents were seated to the lord’s right, his siblings to his left, a place set for Elijah next to them. He took his seat silently, the table already in the throes of conversation, with Lord Anselson seeming more like the lord of the castle than Elijah’s father had ever been.

“Ah, the little lord graces us with his presence at long last.” Lord Anselson said once Elijah was seated. “Well, we can start the meal then.” 

The staff poured in with the food, almost as if they had been waiting for his cue. Elijah was quiet throughout dinner, his eyes on the clock. He excused himself at a quarter to eight, much to his father’s displeasure, and made his way down the garden. Sitting down next to the lake, he rested his chin on his knee, looking at the reflection of the moon in the lake. He had the sudden feeling that no matter what choice he made; his life was going to change completely this evening. Feeling much older than his nineteen years, he almost wished he existed in a different world, as a different man, where the choices he had to make were less consequential. 

He then felt more than saw someone sit next to him. Looking up he realised that somehow Lord Anselson had found him and that it must be much after the hour when he was supposed to make his choice. 

“Apologies my lord, I must have lost track of time.” He said, hoping this had not been taken as a rejection. 

“It is no matter.” The Lord said, his eyes looking over the lake. “Your sister told me I would find you here.”

“It is where I come to,” Elijah said, unsure why he was telling this man, an almost stranger this, “when everything seems too much.”

“With a father like that, I imagine that must be often.” Lord Anselson said. Turning to look at Elijah, he smiled as he saw the young man try and defend his father. “I meant no insult, my little lord. It was spoken in jest, just between the two of us.”

Swallowing, Elijah nodded, turning to look at the lake again.

“Do you have an answer for me yet little lord?” Lord Anselson asked, a few minutes later. 

“I do, my Lord.” Elijah said.

“And?”

“I accept your offer.” Elijah said, almost a whisper, his voice trembling.

“I was rather hoping you would.” Lord Anselson said. As Elijah turned to look at him, he was smiling in the moonlight and for a split-second, Elijah thought his eyes changed colour. “Thank you for this, my little lord.” 

Elijah turned his eyes ahead to gaze at the lake, and the next time he turned, Lord Anselson was nowhere to be found. He closed his windows when he went to sleep that night.

He woke up in the middle of the night, after a dream he could not remember. The clock told him it was 3:30 in the morning and when he looked, the windows were open, the curtains once again billowing out over the moor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter heading from To Be Alive by Gregory Orr:  
> 'To be alive: not just the carcass,  
> But the spark.  
> That's crudely put but...
> 
> If we're not supposed to dance,  
> Why all this music?'
> 
> The Corona quarantine has got me rewatching the Originals feverishly. I haven't written a fic since I put out my last chapter Originals fic in 2016. I was in 10th grade then, I'm in my second semester of law school now. I hope you all find this passable. I've been told that this fandom is mostly dead now, but I hope some of you read this. 
> 
> I'll try to upload bi-weekly. There is nothing else to do anyway.


	2. blood not yet split

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since autumn had set in, a hurried restless had taken over the estate. Elijah wasn’t sure if it was a side-effect of his impending marriage or the winter that promised to be colder than usual. Everywhere he turned there were people shuffling along to finish tasks that had never existed before. Where there had always been people to talk to, who would make a kind comment or ask after him, now there was only silence.

When he was seven, Elijah had been almost attacked by his father’s hunting dogs. 

He remembers the moment the dogs had spotted him, when they had first begun barking. He remembers screaming and turning away. He remembers the moment of fear, when he had first spotted the dogs. He had been paralysed, unable to move or look away. Even now when he runs with them, takes them out hunting, goes to sit with them on particularly cold nights, there is an underlying terror that he can’t shake, no matter how easily they nuzzle him or eat from his hands.

Being in the same room as Lord Anselson felt a little like that. Ever since Lord Anselson had first come to the castle, he had somehow managed to insert himself in the everyday working of the estate. He seemed to be everywhere at all times, charming his mother at the dinner table, making Freya laugh in the library, even pulling a smile from Finn as the two practised sword-fighting early morning.

And yet, despite always trying to never be in a room with him, Elijah could always feel his eyes on him, as if his gaze was a material, visceral thing that could be felt. Something about the man unnerved him, made him feel like  _ prey _ .

Elijah was standing as his father’s tailors poked and prodded at him when he felt Lord Anselson enter the room. And sure enough, the mirror reflected the man leaning against the door of Elijah’s rooms, eating an apple.

“Little lord,” he said, a smile creeping its way over his face, “if I didn’t know better, I would think you’re avoiding me.”

“How fortunate then, my lord,” Elijah replied, meeting his gaze in the mirror, “that you do.”

Lord Anselson smiled at that, reminding Elijah of a wolf a second away from tearing his throat out. “I came up here to ensure that your clothes were ready. Your mother and I have decided that the ball is to be held in a week’s time, we both feel that the earlier the engagement is announced, the better.”

Elijah turned around at this, dismissing the tailors with a wave of his hand. “A week? We were going to have it in a fortnight.”

“Yes, your mother agreed to hasten up the proceedings at my insistence. I am, after all, rather eager to take you home and introduce you to my family.” Lord Anselson smiled, throwing away the apple core. “Everything will be taken care of, little lord. There is no need for you to worry about anything.”

Something about the last sentence made a shiver run down Elijah’s spine.

Ever since autumn had set in, a hurried restless had taken over the estate. Elijah wasn’t sure if it was a side-effect of his impending marriage or the winter that promised to be colder than usual. Everywhere he turned there were people shuffling along to finish tasks that had never existed before. Where there had always been people to talk to, who would make a kind comment or ask after him, now there was only silence.

If Elijah was a more paranoid man, he might have blamed it on Lord Anselson.

The last time a ball had been held at the estate, Elijah had been young enough to be put to bed early. The castle was bustling with activity, people polishing silverware and bannisters like they had never been clean before. He had confined himself to his rooms and the library, while his father had seemingly decided to hole himself up in his study and drink the season away.

“Darling,” his mother said as he stumbled into the front hall, her hands wiping away at the dirt on his shirt, “where have you been? I’ve been looking for you for hours.”

“Riding.” Elijah said, hoping his shuffling would hide the shape of the envelope he had stuffed under his shirt, the latest letter from Tristan that he hadn’t yet had the chance to read.

“And no coat.” His mother tsk-ed. “Clean yourself up quickly love, Lord Anselson has requested your presence in an hour.”

Elijah nodded, climbing up the stairs even as his brain raced with questions about what Lord Anselson could possibly want from him. Elijah had done his best to distance himself from the man even as the rest of the family had seemingly welcomed him into the fold in a manner they never had anyone before. However, that had not stopped the man from seeking Elijah had, making a habit of appearing whenever Elijah least expected him.

Elijah closed the doors of his room behind him, stripping as he made his way to the bathroom and the bath that was already drawn for him. Sinking in the warm water with a sigh, he reached out once he was settled, untangling the letter from his shirt on the floor. He tore it open eagerly, his eyes devouring Tristan’s familiar sloping handwriting.

_ Dear Elijah,  _ it read

_ News of your father’s surrender has travelled fast to the Capital. While everyone seems to (secretly) rejoice in his defeat, there have been whispers about the terms of this surrender. In particular, they have centred around your recent, and rushed, engagement to Lord Anselson. _

_ Elijah, in all these years you must have come to know about the depths of my affection for you. I do not expect you to be a stranger to my desire, to my ideas of my future that have always involved you. I have spoken to my father about this, and he has agreed with me. This move by Lord Anselson seems especially sudden, and in a manner, personal, even though he has no reason to hold a grudge against me. _

_ It is only my father’s affection for the man that stays my hand, otherwise, I would have ridden out there days ago to challenge him for your hand. However, my father has seen my distress and has agreed to take action. _

_ Do not worry, my love. I will not let this interloper come between us. _

_ Yours, as ever, _

_ Tristan _

Elijah dropped his letter in horror, watching the bathwater corrupt the ink before he came to his senses and fished it out, casting it aside on the floor, the ink nearly illegible.

He had always known Tristan and him had had an especially close relationship, had maybe even thought about marrying him in the way young, besotted children often did. But he had never allowed himself to believe it would ever become reality, not in a small part because of the mutual disdain between his father and the king. Ever since Lord Anselson had arrived, Elijah had let the thoughts leave his mind entirely, casting them aside as foolishness. And yet, Tristan had seen it fit to involve the king, clearly showing how neither of them had been on the same page, highlighting yet another reason they would be incompatible as a pair.

Elijah hugged his knees to his chest and hoped the king would see it fit to do nothing about the situation, even as he knew that the king was never in the habit of denying Tristan anything.

* * *

Lord Anselson had been given the run of the entire guest wing of the house. The Mikaelson’s had not entertained in longer than Elijah cared to remember, and the servants had hastily worked to restore the wings to their former glory before Lord Anselson’s arrival.

Elijah knocked on the doors to Lord Anselson’s sitting room, hoping he had not left too much of a mess in the bath for the staff to clean.

“Little lord,” Lord Anselson crowed as he opened his doors himself, much to Elijah’s surprise, “do come in.”

Elijah tentatively made his way into the room, taking in the open windows letting in the cool autumn wind. Outside, the sun shined weakly, the late afternoon sunlight without warmth.

At Lord Anselson’s gesture, Elijah seated himself across on one of the sofas in the room, while the Lord made to pour the tea.

“Sugar?” he asked Elijah.

“One please. And a splash of milk.” Elijah said, watching the sudden smile make its way across the man’s face. “What is it?” he asked, immediately reprimanding himself on blurting out the question.

“My sister takes hers the same way.” Lord Anselson replied as he passed Elijah his cup. Elijah stirred his tea lazily, curiosity about the man in front of him overriding all other instincts.

“You have a sister?” he asked, not noting the pleased smirk that made its way across the man’s face.

“And a brother. Rebekah and Kol, twins. They’re a few years older than you.” Lord Anselson replied, smiling as he took a sip of his own tea. Elijah did not remember him pouring it, but he dismissed the thought from his brain.

“How much older? Where are they now?” he asked in rapid succession. “I mean,” he said, pausing, “apologies my lord, I did not mean to pry.”

“They will be your family soon enough.” Lord Anselson replied with what seemed to be the begging of a pleased smile on his face. “They will be twenty-three next March.”

“Are they married?” Elijah asked. 

Lord Anselson seemed to pause for a second.

“No.” he said. Something in his tone told Elijah that he had asked the wrong question and that it would be in his best interest to not conduct further inquiries today.

They drank their tea in silence for a few minutes, before Lord Anselson shook his head.

“I have something for you.” He said, as if just remembering. He placed his cup back on the table, walking over to the chest of drawers on the far side of the room. He came back with a small box, which had a crest stamped on top that Elijah could not identify.

“I asked your mother for permission.” Lord Anselson said, placing the box in Elijah’s hand. “Open it.” He said, when Elijah seemed to hesitate.

The box was heavy, the lid protesting as Elijah opened it. Inside, nestled in silk cloth was a heavyset ring. The metal was silver, but Elijah was almost sure it wasn’t. There was a row of diamonds set in the middle of the ring, and he knew it had to cost a fortune.

“It belonged to my father.” Lord Anselson said. “One of the only things of his I have left. I would like for it to be my first courting gift to you, even though we this is far from a traditional courtship.”

Elijah was silent for a moment as he looked at it. His first instinct was to refuse the gift, but his logical side told him it would cause offence. He didn’t want to sour Lord Anselson’s good mood, not keen to get on his bad side before marriage.

“Will you put it on me?” he said, and the smile that slowly crept across the Lord’s face could have lit the castle for weeks.

* * *

It was cold outside, the day of the ball. The carriages had started arriving late afternoon the day before, and Elijah had done his best to stay out of the way. His mother had made his excuses for him, and Freya and Finn had been stuck greeting the never-ending line of people making their way into their home.

Elijah had spent the last day hiding in his room, even though he was loath to call it that. Everything seemed to carry an impending sense of doom, as he slowly watched all his belongings get packed up. His rooms were mostly packed away in trunks by now, even his favourite books in trunks, ready to be sent to what would be his new house. A few sets of his clothes were still in his wardrobe, for his last few weeks, and the rest had slowly found themselves being carted to the luggage room downstairs.

Early morning found him in the kitchen, as he absent-mindedly kneaded flour. It had been months since he'd baked bread, as he was wont to do when he needed to think.

His ring lay next to the bowl, the first time he’s taken it off since Lord Anselson,  _ Niklaus _ , as Elijah has taken to calling him in the privacy of his head, put it on his finger. He is deep in thought, even as he works by candlelight. The sun had not yet risen, it is barely four. When he was younger, Elijah was loath to leave his bed between the hours of three and four, ever since Tristan had told him it was called the witching hour. He knows now, there are oft more things to be wary about in the daytime.

He hasn’t heard from Tristan since he sent his last letter. There is no word on what actions he’s taking, and Elijah hopes that this is the one time that the King refuses to indulge Tristan and things his emotions are a fir of pique. Elijah doesn’t know what a confrontation between Lord Anselson and Tristan would look like, but he has a fair idea of who would come off worse.

There is a loaf already in the oven, and the aroma of fresh bread is wafting through the kitchen before his concentration is broken. He whips around, his hand reaching out to grab the knife nearest to him.

He realises who it is only after he’s thrown the knife.

“Lord Anselson.” He says, hurrying over to the man in question. His insides fill with horror at the thought of having actually hurt him, especially on this morning. “I am so sorry my lord, I thought there was an intruder.”

Lord Anselson’s face is inscrutable as he tugs the knife out from where it is pinning his sleeve to the wall. Elijah can’t help but bite his lip nervously. This will surely cause Lord Anselson to break the engagement, and he knows his father will kill him.

Lord Anselson hands him the knife back, hilt first. Elijah takes it, and putters back to the bench, putting it back in the case.

“Well,” Lord Anselson says as he seats himself at the table, “at least I know never to get into domestics with you in the kitchen.”

Elijah can’t help the surprised smile that breaks out on his face.

Dawn finds both of them on the balcony in the common room and, not for the first time, Elijah finds himself glad that his parents hadn’t insisted on a chaperone for their short courtship.

“This is fantastic, my little lord.” Lord Anselson said as he took another bite of his bread. “Though, I must ask, what you were doing in the kitchens in at such an early hour.”

“I ould not sleep.” Elijah admitted. 

“Is thinking about this evening making you nervous?” Lord Anselson asked. 

“Yes,” Elijah admits, “among other things.”

The Lord nods, not pushing for more answers. 

“I’ve never lived anywhere but here,” Elijah says. “never imagined living anywhere but here either, even though I have always known I will have to.”

“I have never lived in one place for long.” Lord Anselson says, and it sounds like a confession. “Though I am hoping this will be the final.”

“What is it like,” Elijah asks, “your new home? Is it to your liking? I have never been to.”

“It is on the cliff. You can hear the waves crashing on the shore. We had yet to unpack fully when I left, but I expect Rebekah and Kol have the house up and running by now. You will find yourself in charge of running the household once we are married, if you would like that.”

“That sounds lovely.” 

* * *

After the din inside, the cool of the garden felt like a much-needed reprieve. 

Elijah could still see the ball through the windows. There were more people in the house than he had ever seen before. There had scarcely been time for him to greet all of them before he was whisked away by his mother or Lord Anselson to be introduced to someone else, and he knows the whirlwind would only consume him once he went back inside. 

Loosening his cravat, he slumped back against a pillar. The sound of the music was audible even from here, and so was the clinking of glasses, the sound of conversation. 

He fiddled with the ring on his finger. Behind him, he heard the garden door open and close, and he froze. He was dreading running into his family, or any more guests he would have to make small talk with.

“Well, Stefan hasn’t threatened to rip his throat out yet, so I think it’s going alright thus far.” a woman said. 

Elijah peeked around the pillar. He could make out Lady Caroline Salvatore, talking to another woman with dark hair he could not identify. She had been at finishing school with his sister, and Elijah remembered the town gossip from a few years ago, about her brother-in-law who had gone to the Continent and never returned. 

“Stefan knows better than that,” the other lady said, and Elijah immediately realised it was Lord Damon’s widow. “We all know how fast he would lose that fight, we were there last time.”

Lady Elena laughed, but it sounded painful. “Yes, I do remember.” A pause, and then; “I’m worried about the boy.” 

“He is nineteen, is he not?” Lady Caroline said. “Scarcely a boy.”

“Compared to us?” Lady Elena countered. 

The door opened and shut again.

“Wine?” A distinctly male voice asked. Elijah could make out Lord Stefan’s voice almost immediately. They had met in court a few years ago. Elijah had been one of the first to hear the news about his brother. 

“Thank you, my love.” 

“You are both aware he is listening, yes?” Lord Stefan asked. 

“Yes, love. We were just discussing the boy.” 

“Poor child.” Lord Stefan said. “I wonder how long he will survive that family.”

“Enzo and Alaric have money on it.” Lady Elena said. “They were most amused to hear the news.”

“Enzo and Alaric should stay in the Colonies then,” Lord Stefan said, “until this passing fancy of the Lord has blown over, at the very least.”

Suddenly they went quiet, and when Elijah turned to look, the three of them were looking at him. Panicking, he turned back around and made for the back door of the ballroom. As he reached the door, it was opened by someone inside, and Elijah found himself face-to-face with his fiance. 

“My little lord,” Lord Anselson said, not looking bothered by the fact that Elijah had seemingly ditched him at their engagement ball, “I was wondering if you would like to dance.”

The ball went on till late at night, and Elijah nearly forgot the conversation he had overheard in the garden by the time he went to bed. 

When he woke up a few hours later, it was still dark outside. His window was open, the curtains billowing in the wind, letting the cold in. As he went to shut it, he thought he could make out a figure on the moor, under the moonlight. But between the blink of one eye and another, the figure was gone, and he chalked it up to his sleep-addled brain confusing him. 

* * *

The next morning, Elijah found himself the first one at breakfast. He had spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, unable to go to sleep despite the tiredness. He had given up on sleep at seven, and by the time Lord Anselson came to breakfast at a quarter to eight, he was already on his third cup of tea, as he read through the letters for the day. 

“Little Lord,” Lord Anselson said, dropping into his usual seat at the head of the table, “did you sleep well?”

“Very well, thank you.” Elijah replied, not catching the frown that crossed Lord Anselson’s face at his answer. He opened his next letter, his eyes scanning the contents as Lord Anselson poured himself tea.

Elijah’s cup thumped down on the table once he was done reading the letter, Lord Anselson’s head snapping up. 

“Is everything alright?” He asked, worriedly. 

“The king requests my presence in Court by the end of the week.” Elijah replied. “And he demands that you accompany me.”

“I will make the arrangements immediately.” Lord Anselson said, as he rose from the table, his breakfast untouched. 

As he left the room, Elijah slowly let his head drop into his hands. The metal of his ring felt cold against his skin, and all he could think of was everything he had to lose. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, first, you all have been so unfathomably patient about this, and I would like to apologise for how long it took me to get this out. This chapter did not want to be written.
> 
> But also!!! What do we think of Tristan and the King?? I introduced a few new characters in this chapter, and things are about to take a t u r n. The next chapter might be a little shorter. 
> 
> I have a playlist for this fic too, let me know if you guys would be interested in hearing it, even though some of those songs might seem like they don't fit in (yet). 
> 
> As usual, comments and kudos will be very much appreciated even if it's just to chew me out for how long it took me to update. English isn't my first language (or second), so please don't boycott if you hate it. 
> 
> I can't find the poem the chapter title is from, but it is from a poem. 
> 
> Sorry this is so long lol. Thank you for reading!!


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